


Anchored

by callay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, emphasis on the comfort, the comfort is sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2537507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times when Fitz doesn’t know what’s real. Mack helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchored

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place early in Season 2, before Simmons' return.

There are times when Fitz doesn’t know what’s real.

He knows that Simmons isn’t here, but he can see her and talk to her, and the unreality of her seems to bleed out into everything around him. He feels like if he looks too hard, the bright world around him will dissolve and reveal the inky darkness underneath.

The one person he doesn’t doubt is Mack. It’s something about the solid presence of him and the blunt way he deals with things. At times like these, when the world is pitched and fuzzy, Fitz just wants Mack.

And right as he’s standing here, alone in the lab, thinking about how he wants to see Mack, Mack shows up. He must have come by to check on him, realizes Fitz, with a rush of relief and gratitude.

“How’s it going?” asks Mack, seeing the look on Fitz’s face.

Fitz tries to explain. “Everything is – it all feels not real. Like I’m, um.” He makes a hand gesture. It’s supposed to be him, floating through space, untethered.

“Okay,” says Mack. He puts his hands on Fitz’s arms. “Can I do anything to help?”

Mack’s hands feel solid and warm on Fitz. “That helps,” he says, a little awkwardly.

“Yeah?” Mack rubs comfortingly up and down Fitz’s arms. “I’m definitely real, Fitz, I promise you that.”

He feels real. Fitz can feel the fuzzy panic receding. He reaches up and grips Mack’s arms, warm and sturdy under his touch, and, okay. He’s safe, anchored here and now, with Mack.

Mack is still watching him, concerned. “Better?”

“Yeah,” says Fitz. “This is – good.”

He lowers his eyes, feeling a little awkward. It’s not _normal_ to want your friend to just – touch you. To need someone solid under your hands, not for any kind of pleasure but because it makes you feel _connected_ to something.

Not that it’s not pleasurable, Fitz has to admit. Mack’s hands are on Fitz’s shoulders, squeezing, firm but gentle. Fitz’s hands are curled around Mack’s biceps and he can feel the slight shift in them as Mack moves, muscles sliding under the skin. It feels good, not just the fact of Mack’s reassuring strength, but the actual feeling of it, good on some intrinsic, tactile level.

Without thinking Fitz slides his hands up Mack’s arms, feeling the round shape of his biceps, the smooth heat of his skin. He can’t help being drawn in by the swell of muscle under his hand, firm and warm. He wants to trace the shape of it.

Mack makes a low, pleased hum, squeezing Fitz’s arms. So Fitz keeps going, hands moving slowly over Mack. He lets the moment stretch out, simple and inexplicably important, the two of them touching each other. There’s a sort of physical honesty to this, and Fitz doesn’t want to let it go.

Fitz spends a long moment exploring Mack’s arms, the raised veins and the contours where muscles meet. He slides his hands up across Mack’s shoulders, broad and strong, and then, with a little thrill, onto his chest. He’s admired Mack’s body before, but it feels strange and exciting to actually be touching it, feeling the firm planes of Mack’s chest through his shirt. It’s enough to make him breathless, the sheer power resting under Mack’s skin.

His own skin feels hot and tingly where Mack is rubbing his shoulders, even through the double layer of shirt and cardigan. They’re both moving slowly, letting the moment draw out, but each pump of Fitz’s heart sends an urgent rush of heat through him. It feels so _intimate_ to be doing this, learning Mack’s body so closely, every dip and curve of him. It’s like nothing Fitz has ever experienced before.

“Having fun, Turbo?” asks Mack, low.

Fitz nods, blushing. He doesn’t know exactly what they’re doing, and definitely doesn’t know if it’s normal, but he knows that he likes it. It’s not just the calming feeling of having something solid under his hands, and it’s not just the tingle of arousal at touching Mack’s magnificent body. There’s something stronger squeezing at his heart. It feels like there’s nothing in the world except him and Mack, together in this strange, perfect moment, and he wants it to be like this forever.

“I know I am,” says Mack. He says it lightly, but Fitz can hear the honesty of it. The words rush hot through Fitz, washing away the last of his doubt.

“Yeah,” breathes Fitz, and feels rather than see Mack’s grin above him. He’s focused on his hands on Mack’s chest, sliding across the smooth curve of Mack’s pectorals. His heart is thrilling at everything about this.

Mack’s hands, moving on Fitz’s shoulders, slip under his cardigan. Now Fitz can feel them even more clearly, the heat and pressure of each of Mack’s long fingers, his broad, capable palms. He shivers, hands fisting in Mack’s shirt for a moment.

Gradually Mack’s hands make their way over Fitz’s shoulder and back, and then down to curl around his lower back. Eventually Mack has an arm wrapped around Fitz, and he gently pulls him closer.

Fitz steps forward. Their bodies are almost touching, so close Fitz can feel the heat coming off Mack, so Fitz takes a shaky breath and presses all the way in, lines their bodies up and pushes his face against Mack’s chest.

He thinks his heart might burst out of his chest at how good this feels, to be pressed up against Mack everywhere, to feel Mack’s every breath in the movement of his chest and stomach. He loves the feeling of Mack’s chest against his face, rubs his cheek against the firm warmth of it like a cat.

Their breaths echo in the quiet air, both a little faster now. Mack’s hands move restlessly on Fitz, one on his back squeezing him close, the other sliding up to the nape of his neck. Fitz can’t help the jolt that goes through him at that, the first time Mack’s hand has been on his bare skin. Mack’s hand is calloused and rough, and it makes Fitz shiver, body moving against Mack’s.

Fitz reaches up and wraps his arms around the solid curve of Mack’s shoulders, pulls himself up and tucks his face under Mack’s jaw, pressing close to his neck. He can feel the vibration of the sound Mack makes, something low and pleased, and he can feel the heat of Mack’s skin, and he can feel _Mack_ , everywhere, holding him tight.

Fitz is trembling, or maybe that’s just the violent pound of his heart. He feels keyed up and relaxed all at once, his body thrilling with desire but also calm, _safe_. It’s an intoxicating feeling.

Mack’s rubbing warm circles into his back with one hand and sliding gently through his hair with his other hand, leaving tingling trails behind. Then his hand moves around so his thumb can trace over Fitz’s face, his cheekbone. His fingers are rough and feel so good Fitz lets out a little gasp.

“Come here,” says Mack quietly. He guides Fitz’s head away from his neck until there’s room for him to tuck his chin down and kiss Fitz’s forehead. His lips are soft as he kisses across Fitz’s brow, and he’s moving at the same gentle pace they’ve established, but Fitz’s pulse speeds up anyway.

Fitz’s eyes flutter closed as Mack presses a kiss to his eyelid, beard rough against Fitz’s cheekbone. And then Mack’s lips are on his cheekbone, soothing. Fitz lets Mack trail kisses across his face for as long as he can, until he can’t take it anymore. Fitz turns his head and Mack leans down further and they’re nose-to-nose, breathing the same air.

Fitz opens his eyes. Mack’s eyes are staggering, dark and hot with desire, and Fitz falls still.

Mack kisses him.

Mack’s lips are warm and soft and fit just right with Fitz’s. He closes his eyes and focuses on the slow shift of their mouths against each other. Each movement sends a spark of heat spinning slowly through his veins.

After a long, perfect moment, Mack pulls back a little, hand gentle on the side of Fitz’s face. He’s smiling. “This good?”

It’s good. Fitz’s pulse is pounding to the rhythm of how good it is. He feels it tingling in every part of his body and squeezing at his heart. It’s good on so many different levels, it’s overwhelming.

“That’s a stupid question,” he chides Mack, who laughs.

“Fine, my bad,” says Mack, and leans down to kiss Fitz again.

And then Fitz forgets everything because Mack nudges his mouth open and presses his tongue slowly inside, hot and inexorable. Fitz relishes it, the discovery of a new space between them to learn the contours of, to carefully explore, their tongues sliding wet against each other.

Fitz never wants this to end. He melts against Mack, lets the sweep of Mack’s tongue push away everything else in the world. He takes a few steps back under the slow unwavering force of Mack’s kiss and doesn’t even notice until he runs into the lab table.

He pulls away, startled. Mack grins at him and then his hands trace a hot path down Fitz’s body to curl under his ass, and Mack hoists him easily up onto the table.

Fitz clings to Mack’s shoulders, surprised, but when he gets his bearings, he finds he likes this. Perched on the table, he’s just about eye level with Mack. It makes it easy to lean in for another kiss, pulling on Mack’s shirt.

Mack steps closer, between Fitz’s knees, but he ducks his head. His gaze lands hot between Fitz’s legs. An electric shock bursts through Fitz when he realizes it, because Fitz’s cock is hard and completely obvious, straining against his pants.

Fitz squirms, blushing. Mack’s gaze is like a touch sliding hot over him, and Fitz would be more embarrassed if he weren’t distracted by how desperately he’s turned on by it. Mack plants his hands on Fitz’s legs, two broad points of heat, his thumbs curled around the insides of Fitz’s thighs.

Fitz wants Mack to touch him more than he’s ever wanted anything.

“This okay?” asks Mack, squeezing Fitz’s thighs. His tone is light but Fitz can see the need in his dark eyes, feels it resonating with the need coursing through him, like they’re two plucked strings.

The only reply Fitz can manage is an incredulous huff. Mack grins. “Stupid question. Got it.”

Slowly, Mack runs a hand up Fitz’s thigh and presses it to the bulge of his cock. A jolt of pleasure runs through Fitz at just that, the pressure of Mack’s hand, pinning him in place.

Fitz bites his lip. His blood is buzzing with arousal and he’s sure if Mack started rubbing him like this he’d be done for. But he doesn’t want to be done, not yet. He wants to feel Mack’s hand on his bare skin, needs it like a physical hunger, deep in his bones.

Mack’s gaze catches on his bitten lip, his flushed cheeks, and he leans in to kiss him again. Fitz opens eagerly for the thrust of Mack’s tongue, starts to lose himself in the warm rhythm of kissing again. But Mack’s hands are moving, working open his fly, and every brush of Mack’s hands against him is a bright shock of pleasure. He can’t focus on anything but that.

Mack is moving slowly and deliberately, like he’s _trying_ to drive Fitz insane, but eventually he frees Fitz’s cock. And then he’s holding Fitz tightly, his grip pure heat, and Fitz has to pull away from the kiss to look.

The sight of his cock in Mack’s hand, big and solid around him, sends need rolling over Fitz like a tidal wave. He lets out a low groan, clinging to Mack’s shirt. His hips keep trying to push up, but Mack’s other hand is planted on his thigh, anchoring him to the table.

And Mack starts to move his hand.

Fitz is gasping, torn between watching what’s going on and closing his eyes to let the sensation of it take him over completely. Mack’s touch is somehow tender despite the rough pressure of his hand, and the feeling is unbearably good.

Mack’s still keeping the same steady rhythm as before, moving carefully up and down, squeezing a little around the head and then sliding all the way down to the base. Then back up, slowly, the calloused skin of his hand perfect friction.

Fitz feels like his body is vibrating with uncountable little sparks of pleasure, which have been building and building since he and Mack first started touching each other. And now Mack’s hand is a magnet, drawing them all together, forming a hot tight knot of need in his stomach.

Fitz is on the verge of breaking, he can feel it, but Mack’s not speeding up. He’s moving at the same slow pace, building the tension in Fitz’s belly, not resolving it. For once Fitz doesn’t want to draw this out any longer, he can’t, his body is demanding resolution.

He can’t manage words, but he slides his hands to Mack’s arms and squeezes hard, hoping Mack can read the plea on his face.

And then, finally, Mack breaks the slow rhythm and strokes him quickly, squeezing tight. Once, twice, and Fitz comes harder than he ever has before. He feels like he’s bursting apart at the seams, vibrating apart molecule-by-molecule, but Mack’s here keeping him grounded, focusing him on the white-hot pleasure rushing through his cock, pulsing over Mack’s hand.

It’s a long time before Fitz can breathe again. Finally he loosens his sweaty hands from Mack’s arms and opens his eyes.

Mack leans in and kisses him, slow and soft, then pulls back a little.

“Things feel real enough yet?” asks Mack.

Fitz almost laughs because his earlier fears seem like a distant memory now. The world of doubt and confusion is gone, replaced by a perfect world with just enough room for the two of them. Fitz’s body is still tingling with sensation, his heart is soaring, and it all couldn’t be more real.


End file.
